


Warming Up

by roidadidou



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, he intrudes your personal space bubble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roidadidou/pseuds/roidadidou
Summary: Commissioned by a friend.I wouldn't say it's SFW, but there's no sexual content. Rated teen for innuendo.Mr. Wheezy intrudes on your personal space and says funny things to make you squirm.(He refers to you as a kid endearingly, but I've written the reader as an adult old enough to smoke and drink.)





	Warming Up

Social smoking? What a joke. It stops being social eventually. To your dismay, you found that any new clothes you bought began to smell like your bad habit only after a few days.  


This habit only started because you spent so many nights at the Devil’s casino. Something about it kept drawing you back. The thrill of watching someone’s winning streak. The fruity drinks and cheap, yet tasty and filling dinners. The confident, energized male singers and the skimpy female dancers.  
And the bouncer in the brown, corduroy suit that you occasionally saw. Every time he entered your line of sight, you stared. What was most notable about him was the cigar he had for a head, a string of smoke always sizzling upwards from the stack of ashes that sat above his face.  
How could you ever approach a man like that? He’d patronize you, or swear at you, or think you were a busboy. And so, you sat at the bar, twiddling your thumbs like a fool as your half-empty scotch sat in front of you.  


A smoke would calm your nerves, you thought, as you neared a cigarette to your lips. But the bartender stopped you.  


“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s a designated smoking area over there.” He pointed to a segregated room with no door, only an archway.  


“Since when?”  


“It’s a new law they just put in place. Sorry again.”  


You sadly pulled yourself off the barstool, taking your drink with you as you entered what you considered the hall of shame. It didn’t make you feel any better to see the room completely empty, other than a single man waiting for another player so the dealer could start a poker game.  


Who’s sitting at the poker table? None other than the cigar-headed bouncer you were so intently fascinated with.  


The cigarette hung loosely out of your mouth as you finally had a good enough reason to confront him; the chair next to him was empty.  


Shakily, yet swiftly, you pulled it from the table and sat down. You jumped when he thumped your shoulder with the back of his hand.  


“Got a light? I’m fadin’ here.” He said with a hoarse voice.  


You sat wide-eyed for a second, then snapped with mumbled “oh, yeah, yeah,” as you searched yourself for your lighter. You pulled it out, then to your continued surprise, he just leaned down towards you. 

Dumbfounded, you put two and two together, opening the lighter with a click and holding the flame up to the ash above his head.  


As you finished, some of his ash spilled on your jacket, and you let out a startled sigh as you tried to brush it off. He sat straight again, quickly trying to help you with the task.  


“Sorry, pal! I’m makin’ a mess,” He said, brushing the ash off of your shoulder. Your hands were raised like a small animal’s submissive gesture.  


“Oh, no, i-it’s fine,” You stuttered.  


“Hey, you look awful young. How long you been smokin’?”  


“Uh, about a year, I guess-”  


“Break that habit while you can, boy, it’ll do nothin’ good for ya.”  


The cigarette still hung from your mouth, unlit.  


“I-I like the smell, I guess,” you replied sheepishly. He chuckled as the dealer shuffled his deck.  


“Place your ante,” The dealer said. The cigar man pulled a crumpled dollar from his suit jacket and threw it into the middle of the table. You hurriedly shuffled to pull out your wallet, placing a cleaner bill on top of his.  


“Name’s Wheezy,” The man said to you. You looked up from your hand of cards.  


“Mister Wheezy.”  


“Oh, uh, you’re a guard here, aren’t you?”  


“Somethin’ like that, I guess. I just throw out anyone who doesn’t pay up.”  


He thumped your shoulder again, this time playfully.  


“So don’t make any bets ya can’t lose.”  


You chuckled nervously.  


A few rounds were played, and he knew just how nervous you were sitting next to him. You didn’t stand a chance; eventually, your wallet ran dry.  


The dealer left for a break, and you pushed out your chair and stood up. But as you turned to walk away, Wheezy grabbed your arm.  


“I’m sorry, I... I don’t have anymore money,” You replied.  


“Naw, I’m not worried about that.” His grin was smug.  


“What I wanna know is what’s makin' ya so scared,” He continued. Even while sitting, his face was almost at level with yours. This did nothing but intimidate you.  


“Scared?” You sputtered.  


“Don’t play dumb. You steal somethin'? Cheat?”  


The way he talked, it seemed like he wasn’t actually trying to convict you of something. Rather, he just enjoyed seeing you squirm.  


“No, sir, I-”  


“‘Sir’… I ain’t the King of England, boy.” He chuckled.  


He stood, towering over you. The smoking lobby was empty except for you and him.  


You felt a blush fill your face. His cheeky grin taunted you.  


“Maybe ya got another reason you don’t wanna quit smokin’?”  


You were speechless. What kind of satisfaction was he getting out of playing with you?  


“Yer as red as a tomato, boy, might as well join the Root Pack.”  


Your mind raced. Say something, say anything.  


“T-t-to-tomatoes are f-fruits,” You mumbled. This provoked a strong laugh from him, as he turned you around and placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you out of the smoking lobby.  


“Let’s get you a drink, boy, that’ll loosen you up.”  


“B-but we can’t leave the s-smoke-smoking area,” You said. He stopped, then bent to your level to flick the cigarette out of your mouth.  


“Wheezy goes where Wheezy wants. I’m a bouncer here, the only rules I follow are the Devil’s himself.”  


Just like he said, nobody had any qualms with him parading himself to the bar. You both sat down, and he signaled the bartender and asked for two shots.  


Tonight was full of surprises. Another one for you; he got drunk fast. His speech slurred, and he lost a sense of his own strength, gripping your shoulder so tightly while he told a joke that you yelped.  


He was popular, too. The conversation around the bar was lively, and as much as you tried to silently hunch over your drink, holding it with trembling hands, Wheezy wouldn’t have it.  


His hand went to the back of your neck, shaking you playfully as he retold your earlier statement that he found hilarious.  


“Somethin’ about me scares this kid senseless!” He said, living up to his name as he almost seemed out of breath.  


“I ask him ‘you been cheatin’? You steal somethin’?’ and he goes all red, all over his face like a Christmas light!”  


“Just like that,” Another patron added, as you were beginning to blush again. Wheezy laughed.  


“Yeah, just like that!” He continued.  


“I tell him he’s as red as a tomato, the poor boy don’t know what to say, all I hear him say is ‘tuh-tuh-tuh-tomatoes are fr-fr-fruits!’”  


You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as the bar laughed at you. Even the bartender chuckled while drying a glass. You covered your face with one hand, elbow resting on the counter.  


“Love this kid, can’t get enough of him!” Wheezy praised.  


“Is he your new squeeze, Wheezy?” One of his friends teased.  


“A boytoy?” Someone else added.  


“I dunno, he’s a little scrawny,” The patrons continued.  


“If ya take him back to yer room, y’oughta be careful, otherwise you’ll snap him in half!”  


Uproars of laughter sat in your ears, and you practically fell off your barstool trying to stand.  


“Where you goin’?” Wheezy asked, grabbing your arm.  


“U-using the bathroom,” You squeaked. You didn’t see his smile censor as he noticed your teary eyes.  


You speed-walked to the bathroom, as fast as you could without running. The white tile and pristine paint was a breath of fresh air as you shut the door behind you. Every stall was empty. Shakily, you stood in front of the large mirror, placing a cigarette in your mouth and trying to hold your hand steady enough to light it. You saw your reflection staring back at you, and couldn’t ignore how rattled that event had left you.  


Fear filled you once again as the door opened. It was Wheezy; you didn’t know if a random stranger would have made you feel worse or better.  


But he was oddly solemn, and looking at you concernedly.  


“Y’alright, kid?” He asked.  


You gulped, trying to find words. You choked on the smoke of your cigarette, coughing as it seeped from your nose and mouth. He approached you, his hand once again gripping your shoulder.  


“Look, I’m sorry about what they said. What I said.” His speech was still slurred, yet he was able to power through his intoxication to speak to you seriously.  


“I-it’s fine,” You choked.  


“Come on, I’ll take ya back to my place, we’ll get you some coffee-”  


“Y-you can’t drive… Drive, we’ve been drinking.”  


“My room.” He clarified.  


“Every employee lives here at the casino.”  


He headed for the door, but stopped and looked back at you when he didn’t hear your footsteps following him. You arms were crossed in the ‘self-hug’ sort of manner.  


“I wasn’t… Wasn’t s-scared of you, I-I-I was nervous.” You said.  


“What for?”  


You felt the words on the edge of your tongue.  


“‘Cuz you’re handsome.”  


He laughed, not used to the blunt flattery.  


“C’mere,” He said with humor, spreading his arms for a hug. You stepped backward as he approached you, the juxtaposition of intimacy in the bathroom not sounding too pleasant.  


“No, no, I-”  


“What, you scared I’ll snap ya in half?”  


The statement got a giggle out of you, and you resigned, letting his hug pick you up off the floor. Though your legs dangled awkwardly below you, you didn’t feel weighed down. Your cigarette held inbetween your fingers, your nose pressed to his shoulder. Though the smell of tobacco rested permanently in his suit, it wasn’t overpowering. On the contrary, it was comforting.  


Sure, the habit did nothing good for you. But maybe you wouldn’t quit just yet.


End file.
